Huddy TwoShot: The Visit
by Muna16
Summary: Wilson visits House near the end of his stay at Mayfield, and he brings Cuddy with him.
1. Chapter 1

**The Visit - A Huddy Two-Shot**

James Wilson waited in the common sitting area at Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital. He stood by the window and stared off into the distance as he considered the events of the past four months.

In addition to running the oncology department at PPTH, he had been doing his own fair share of babysitting House's ducklings. He had been participating in a number of differentials that had little to do with cancer or hematology to ease their jitters and help them along as they worked without House.

He had also spent a great deal of his off time maintaining House's apartment, traveling to Philadelphia to visit House, and to New York to visit his own brother Danny. And he hadn't even begun to consider all of the effort it has taken to help keep Cuddy together during this time. Lisa Cuddy was indeed the strongest woman he had ever known, stronger even that Amber, he thought, yet House's breakdown had nearly led to her own.

No, it had not been easy. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't have House back at home and at work soon enough. Who was he kidding, it wasn't just because he was exhausted, he truly missed his best friend. Wilson needed him, perhaps more than House had ever needed him.

"Rationalization man," House quipped from behind him, startling Wilson, "two days in a row? Is gas suddenly free out there in the real world or do you really have nobody else to talk to-cause that's pathetic."

"Nice to see you too, House," he answered, not surprised that House would berate him for visiting on consecutive days. He did have a good reason, but he wasn't going to tell him what it was, at least not yet.

"So what's going on?" House asked, seriously concerned with the unplanned visit.

"Nothing," Wilson responded, shifting his weight and heading abruptly towards the game table. "Wanna play?" he asked, referring to the chess board.

Still suspicious, House limped over, "Sure. But only if you tell me why you are here."

"House, sometimes a visit is just a visit," Wilson said.

House chuckled. "Jimmy, I am pretty sure Freud didn't even believe the original version of that particular idiom. And you know I don't. Nothing just is. Why? Are the kiddies about to kill a patient and the sent you for a secret consult? Is it you? Are you here to invite me to your fourth wedding -- I'm not out for another two weeks so-"

"House!" Wilson shouted, interrupting him and earning the stare of the few patients watching tv on the other side of the room. "I am not here for a consult. They have almost killed every patient they have treated in your absence, but they are somehow surviving. And I don't have a freaking minute to myself, so trust me, I am not going to find another Mrs. Wilson anytime soon."

House realized he may have pushed him too far. He moved the pawn and began the game with the Queen's Gambit opening.

"Two weeks then?" Wilson asked, betraying too much emotion, he was sure.

"That's what they said, as long as I keep my cool, refrain from physically or verbally assaulting others and continue to share my very 'soul' in therapy," House said. "These next two weeks may be harder than the detox," House observed.

Wilson listened carefully as he considered his next chess move, and he understood that even as House was about ready to step back into his life, these final two weeks of real self-restraint would be a real test for him. The air quotes House used around the idea that he was sharing his "soul" in therapy made Wilson think that House was doing anything but that. As much as he wanted his friend to face his demons, he was kind of happy to see that House was still House.

Wilson moved a pawn, playing into House's opening. House did not divulge anything with his look, and he continued with this game, knowing that he would have Wilson's King in just a handful of moves.

Wilson was a better chess player than this, House thought. He could tell that Wilson was distracted. Either that, or Wilson wanted House to think that he was distracted. In either case, House knew that something was up, and he didn't like not knowing what it was.

Moving his knight, Wilson remarked, "You haven't asked about Cuddy. I've visited you at least weekly for the past four months, and you normally ask about her and the baby within the first couple of minutes."

House kept his eyes on the board. "Not true. I ask about her and the brat, not once about her and the baby. The brat probably technically isn't even a baby anymore."

Wilson watched House's move for a moment before he made his own. "Semantics and deflection, all in one sentence. At least you aren't losing your step," Wilson added.

House kept his eyes on the board. He wasn't thinking about his next move, nor Wilson's next move, his mind was about ten moves ahead playing the various ways to get to Wilson's King. There were so many, really, that it was almost embarrassing.

"So," Wilson started again, "Why haven't you asked?"

"I don't need to ask since it is the reason you came. I don't think you would drive all the way over here and leave again without making whatever point you want to make about Cuddy. I don't ask because I know you,ll-"

"She's here."

House finally looked up from the chess board and met his friend's eyes. He didn't say anything, but the anger that was coursing through his veins was evident enough in the expression on his face. Wilson was afraid that House might actually blow the two week window for his release by assaulting him right then and there.

"Why?" House asked in the most level, reserved voice he could muster. In that single syllable he implied his feelings of betrayal. "Why" in this case was really, how could you bring her here when I begged you and told you I didn't want her to see me here, that I wasn't ready to face her, that I needed time to think….

Wilson started quickly, before House shut him out completely, as he knew he would do after this perceived betrayal. "She needed to meet with Dr. McVinn about your treatment. The board is holding a special meeting tomorrow, about your tenure, and-"

House was processing and trying to reason his way out of the guilt that was spreading through his stomach, making him nauseous. "Is she in, is she in trouble with the board?"

Wilson had kept these dealings from House, but he saw no point in keeping them from him any longer. He was about ready to step back out into the world, and he was going to be dealing with the consequences of his addiction and admission soon enough.

"It hasn't been easy, House, not by a long shot." Wilson took a deep breath and continued. "But she is strong, the strongest woman I know. And she is in her element with the politics of the board. She will be fine."

House stood up and shook his head. He grabbed his cane and limped over towards the windows. He looked back at Wilson, "Don't do that. Don't assume she can take it. She has a breaking point. She shouldn't sacrifice her career for-"

Wilson had joined him by the window. "She is strong, House. It has been hard, but she is strong, stronger than Stacy, if that's what you are worried about."

"For fuck's sake, Wilson, I am thinking about Cuddy and how she is pissing away her career to protect a drug addicted, ungrateful crippled asshole -" House lost his sentence at some point, midway through it, and he only added, "Don't let her do that, Wilson, please."

Something in House's rant struck Wilson, and he couldn't help but smile. "Actually, you're not ungrateful," he said. "You sound pretty damned grateful right now." Wilson took his chances. "So, do you want to see her? Her meeting should be over by now."

"You know the answer to that, Wilson. Tell her I'm sorry."

Wilson started to walk away, disappointed but not entirely surprised. He turned and said, "You know, House, it would make her feel better if she got to see you. So she could be sure that you are better. So you could clear the air. If you won't do it because you are trying to protect yourself from something, why don't you try to do it for her? So maybe she could get a full night of sleep tonight?"

House chuckled sadly. "There you go assuming again."

Wilson arched his eyebrows, trying to consider what House meant. House clarified, "You are assuming that if I see her I won't screw things up even more."

Wilson's cell phone beeped and he checked the text message. "She is waiting for me in the lobby. I guess I'll see you next week, House. Try to keep your cool."

He was almost out the door when he heard House's plea, "Fine, bring her back here. I might as well get this over with."


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa Cuddy hoped that the report she had just placed in her briefcase would be enough to protect House's tenure at PPTH. It stated that he had detoxed completely, that the breakdown was the result of untreated post traumatic stress disorder exacerbated by the drug addiction, that he had stopped hallucinating as soon as the drugs had left his system, and that he had cooperated with his treatment.

She hoped the report would do for the board what it was doing for her right now - it was helping her breathe a little easier. House wasn't suffering from schizophrenia or from irreparable damage to his brain from the DMS he did last year in his attempt to save Amber for Wilson. His breakdown was stress-induced. He had cooperated in his therapy sessions. Everything would soon be over and things could begin to go back to normal.

While she was breathing easier, she still had an uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach. This feeling had to do with the fact that she was about to see House for the first time in four months and had no idea what to expect. She waited for Wilson in the lobby.

The lobby at Mayfield is nothing like the lobby at PPTH. She loves working at the main desk at her hospital, watching her staff come and go, watching the patients and visitors get the services they need. This lobby at Mayfield was nice enough, but the colors were dull and the few people who walked through it, well, they looked different from the people she is used to interacting with in New Jersey. Don't misunderstand, Lisa Cuddy wasn't squeamish - she handled her psych rotation like the best of them as an intern - but still, thinking that House had been here for four entire months made her feel sad.

She wondered what it was that made him take this drastic step. She tried to talk to him that last day in her office about options - rehab facilities - but he was determined to go to Mayfield. They could handle his addiction and pain management issues as well as the hallucinations he said. Even in his shaken state, he was adamant and would accept no other option. He didn't want to leave any room for error. He understood that this time everything was at stake, and he did not want to be able to cheat, he did not want to allow for the possibility of failure.

She had warned him moments later in Wilson's office, as Wilson had, that being admitted into a psychiatric facility meant he would relinquish his ability to practice medicine until the doctors who would treat him there cleared him. "Are you sure?" she and Wilson had asked him repeatedly. House had responded soberly, "It is the only way."

She saw Wilson approaching and she quickly left the couch and walked towards him. "He is over here in the common area," Wilson said.

She looked at Wilson nervously, "Well, how is he?"

They walked together down the long hall that would lead them to House. "The same. He has been pretty much okay for the past month or so - he just kicked my ass at chess - but right now he is terrified of seeing you."

She met Wilson's big brown eyes with hers and said honestly, "He can't be more terrified than I am. James, please tell me you plan to stay."

They arrived at the common area. House was looking out the window. He looked thinner, his hair was shorter than usual, but overall, he looked pretty good. He looked healthier than he had in a long time. He turned, feeling her eyes on him, and said quietly, "Cuddy."

"House," she offered, nervously flashing him a big smile.

"Well guys, I need to call the oncology floor back at the hospital and check on a couple of patients, so if you don't mind, I need to head to the lobby where I can get better reception." He left without waiting for a response, before House or Cuddy could react.

They looked at each other intensely.

House had spent the past four months trying to figure out what the delusion had meant besides his obvious physical attraction to Cuddy. He was either in love with her or in love with the idea of being saved by her. In either case, the prognosis was not appealing to him. If he was in love with her, he would live a tortured existence as he knew he was not worthy of having her. If he was in love with the idea of being saved by her, then he was a pathetic fool, not better that any one of Wilson's three ex-wives. It was a lose-lose proposition. This is the real reason he hadn't wanted to see her. The whole thing seemed futile. He couldn't win.

Cuddy had spent the past four months worried about House, his health, and what everything had meant that last day in her office. He had admitted he needed her. He had admitted he wasn't okay. House doesn't do vulnerable and nobody knows that better than her. She had wondered what she would find in his eyes when they met again - he could be sorrowful at the loneliness he has endured at Mayfield, he could be embarrassed at what he shared with her that last day, he could be angry that he had let his guard down and let her see the suffering closer than ever before. She was prepared for anything. Well, to be truthful, she wasn't prepared for any of it at all, but she knew to expect the unexpected. As she looked at him now, he seemed a bit distant. She couldn't read his eyes.

Finally House motioned to some couches by the windows and she followed him to them. They sat across from each other and looked up at each other again.

"So, did you get what you needed from McVinn?" he asked, uttering the words carefully, at a measured pace.

"Yes," she responded, just as carefully. "The report should put everything into perspective for the Board. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

He looked down at his hands and chuckled. The idea that neither of them had anything to worry about was almost ludicrous.

She moved, sitting next to him, and put her hands in his. He stood up abruptly and limped back towards the window behind the couch. She followed him but stayed a couple of feet behind him, giving him space, leaning on the back of the couch.

Without looking away from the scene outside the window, he mumbled, "You've lost some weight, Cuddy, and you have dark circles under your eyes. Your skin is pale. You need to take care of yourself - that kid of yours - she needs you to take care of yourself."

Cuddy straightened up. Kid was better than bastard, she thought to herself. Why did House hate Rachel so much? Was he really jealous of an infant? Did he think she would no longer need him in her life now that she had this child?

"You know," Cuddy said, deciding to push him gently, "we haven't seen each other in four months. You might have started with a compliment."

House turned back and looked at her again, eyeing her gray suit. "I'd like to compliment you but your new outfit covers your funbags and hides your ass. You either wanted to blend in with the walls here or you wanted to keep me from ogling you. Either way, mission accomplished." His eyes were back on the basketball game occurring on the court outside.

Cuddy didn't let him get to her. She wasn't sure if he was testing her or if he was really trying to push her away. What she did know, however, was that she wasn't going to make it easy for him. "I considered my red suit, the one that fits snuggly and accentuates the twins, I believe you affectionately call it a hooker look, but I figured I would save it for when you got out - you know, so you could celebrate with one of your lascivious comments."

He looked back at her again now and smiled softly at her attempt at banter. She had this ability to surprise him like no other woman he had ever known. He turned his attention to the game again and she walked over to him, standing next to him now, watching the game herself.

"I'm sorry." He said it quickly and softly. If she hadn't been standing right next to him it would have sounded like a garbled mumble. But she heard it pretty clearly, and the sound of it sent a shiver down her spine. He had never in twenty years, said he was sorry for anything. He had plenty of reason to be sorry, yet he had never said it, not like that, meaning it. She considered asking him what he was sorry for, but decided against it, thinking those two words were probably hard enough for him to say as it was.

She turned towards him and stroked his cheek with her fingers the way she had done that last day in her office. Everything inside of him stirred at her touch. She gently moved his face so that he was facing her, with their eyes locked on each other.

"I'm sorry House. I am sorry I didn't realize how much you were struggling. I am sorry I wrote you the prescription for Ambien. I am sorry I didn't realize you had come to my office to ask for my help that last night." She rushed through the words, determined not to cry. "I failed you-"

"Cuddy," he said gruffly, averting her gaze and staring at her feet instead. "Don't waste your time feeling guilty because of this." He held up his arms to show her

that he was talking about Mayfield. "This was all on me. I started down the road that led here a long time ago, there was nothing you could do to stop it."

He shrugged his shoulders and looked into her eyes again. "If anything, you, you and Wilson," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady, "you have tried to save me from myself, from this, so often - I'm the one who didn't listen."

They were looking out the window again and remained silent for some time. She reached over and held his hand. He let her this time and softly caressed her fingers with his thumb.

She was curious. She was curious about the hallucinations and delusions. She knew she was a player in them but didn't know the details. She was curious about his treatment here - the therapy - and how much he had shared - and what those demons from his past were about. She was curious about his leg and his pain, wondering if it was bearable without the Vicodin. Most of all, she was curious about his feelings, and what he expected from her after his release.

Of course, she had known House long enough to understand that if she asked about these things, if she demanded answers now, answers which she had a right to know, she would force him to retreat. He would probably insult her and push her away, fearing further intimacy. That's what he did to Stacy. She was determined not to repeat the mistakes she witnessed as she saw that relationship deteriorate before her very eyes. Afterall, as House's attending doctor she had a ring-side seat for that, and it wasn't pretty.

So Cuddy tried to balance her need and right to know these things with the knowledge that the answers would come slowly with him. They had both said they were sorry, and perhaps that was enough for today.

She turned gently towards him again, ready to say goodbye, when he suddenly added, "I'm better now. In pain, but better - stronger." She nodded. He had sensed that she needed so much to know this, and he had given it to her, like a gift.

"I'm still an a$$, though, and I'll make you just as miserable when I go back to Princeton as I did before," he said nonchalantly as, as if there were nothing that could be done about it.

She smiled broadly. "I'm counting on it. I have missed you so much House."

She pulled him towards her and wrapped her arms around him. He accepted the closeness, bringing his arms around her waist and burying his head in the crook of her neck. He whispered into it. "I didn't mean what I said about Rachel that night. I-"

"I know," she said quietly into his chest.

She pulled away from the embrace and gave him a quick kiss on his stubble. "I guess I'll see you in a couple of weeks," she said, starting to straighten out her jacket and pick up her purse from the couch.

"Cuddy," House said, following her.

She looked back at him, expectantly.

"Maybe you can come back to visit, you know, if you have time-"

She smiled again softly, hoping she wasn't betraying the enthusiasm she was feeling. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her to visit him here. Finally. "Sure. I'd love to do that."

"Cuddy," he said again as they walked towards the door of the common room. She turned to him one last time, curious as to what else he would share. He had given her so much already.

"When you come back, can you wear the red hooker outfit? It would really help with my night time Cuddy fantasies."

She laughed, thinking for the first time in the past several months, that everything would be okay. He watched her walk away, inspecting the way her hips moved from side to side, wishing he had a lollipop to suck on. God did he miss lollipops.

Peter Rickens, one of the patients who had been watching tv on the other side of the room, came over to House as he stood over by the door, watching Cuddy walk away.

"Who is that?" he asked House, admiring the view along with him.

"That," House confided, "is the reason I'm here, the reason I detoxed, and the reason I'm going to behave for the next two weeks, Rickens. That's what's waiting for me on the other side."


End file.
